


The Grumpy Tellarite

by Maul_Junior



Category: Clear Skies (Web Series)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maul_Junior/pseuds/Maul_Junior
Summary: The USS Ross, the NX-76710, has a new Librarian. They're definitely not Starfleet, and are somewhat different than the rest of the crew. A dark past, quirky holograms, and chaotic joyfulness abound in this slightly revisionist history of the Streampunks' Clear Skies RolePlay.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Grumpy Tellarite

The crates were carefully packed away, the tapestry folded and pain-stakingly preserved in its bio-case, and all that remained was for to wait for the shuttle to land in its new home. The Librarian leaned back in their chair, quietly doing their best impression of a point in space. the mild banter of the USS Ross's crew floated around the cabin, but the Tellarite did not acknowledge or join into their mild revelry in the otherwise routine flight. Their fingers probed the shiny, bronze badge that had been delivered along with their orders to report to the NX-76710, the first of its class. The badge that marked them as not only a librarian professionally, but as a being that ran their own branch of the Galactic Library. This was a chance, a chance to have a new beginning. To redefine everything about themselves.

As the shuttle cleared the atmosphere and the spacedock came into view, the Tellarite swallowed as the massive bulk of the Ross came into view. They could redefine themselves, but that would mean turning their back on the the traditions of their people. Their throat choked up slightly, and Alora Anophis closed their eyes, mentally beginning again: "Once there was the world of Tellar, and our People were One People," they began, and let themselves drift into revery as the shuttle flew ever closer to the USS Ross.

The Librarian was jolted out of their meditation as the shuttle touched down, softly. The Tellarite's eyes shot open, and was halfway to the shuttle's cargo hold before the pilot had twisted halfway around to tell them that they had landed. "Watch your hands!" The Librarian snarled, any anxiety they were feeling pushed aside and fuelling their careful supervision of the unloading. They paused a brief moment to take in the cavernous shuttle bay of the massive Galaxy-class variant starship before they hopped down onto the deck of the Ross, arriviing onto the ship for the very first time. Ensigns and Crewmen were unloading crates, and Alora had pulled their communicator from their belt to double check cargo manifests. There was a low rumble as a second Federation shuttle arrived. A quick glance at the numbers and name confirmed that it was the second half of the Library's cargo, shipped to the Ross.

The Federation types were only nominally efficient at the unloading, and most of the Tellarite's attention was devoted to the larger works of art, with sharp words at any rough handling. "Most of these pieces are unique!" The Librarian snarled as a crate slammed down onto the deck from a Caitian's fingers. Alora stalked across the deck and glared up at the felinoid's embarrassed face, two feet above them. "This will be the largest collection of non-replicated cultural artifacts in the Shackleton Expanse!" The Tellarite growled, stabbing a finger up at the Caitian that came up six inches too short. "So keep your fr'elling balance and don't drop the dr'enning merchandise!"

The Librarian whirled on their heel with a derisive snort, and their eyes widened. "Put that down!" They screamed, running across the deck and tackling an Ensign in gold to the deck, their tricorder skittering across the deck. The Librarian glared down at the hapless Bolian, ignoring his cheeks darkening as the Tellarite straddled them. "That k'flechving tapestry is one of FOUR left this side of the Romulan Star Empire, and tricorders DESTROY them!" Alora sat up, not getting off the Ensign, and stabbed a finger down at him. "The Federation President gave their personal assurance to the Galactic Library that all pertinent safety measures would take place. It's not like the Library can smuggle any MORE of them through Romulan space, now that they're on alert." 

The Tellarite leapt to their feet and stalked off, ignoringi the Bolian, who was left forlornly, with a hand outstretched, until a Trill came up next to them and pulled them to their feet. The pair watched as the Tellarite continued to storm through the hangar bay, barking orders, pausing to inspect cargo as it was off-loaded, and occasionally pausing to yell at a hapless Starfleet crew member or officer that stepped out of line somehow. The crewmen exchanged glances. "We're all supposed to be hand-picked by the Cap, right?" The Bolian asked, still recovering from the Tellarite.

The Trill nodded slowly. "That's the rumor. So I have to wonder what the hell this particular Tellarite brings ot the table." The Trill cocked his head, and a lazy smile crossed his lips. "Aside from one hell of a set of pipes." There was a flicker of movement, and a woman in a Starfleet uniform with Commander's pips on their collar was standing in the hangar bay, calmly redirecting the Tellarite's tirade to herself, and giving them an understanding smile. Something about that only seemed to anger the Tellarite even further. "XO is here," The Trill said, slapping the Bolian's back good-naturedly. "Back to work."

***

The space that was to be their Library was bare. A single, large room, devoid of ornamentation, with only the requested bookshelving units set up. The Stacks were pathetically bare at the moment, and the access ports for their computer cores were carefully marked and delineated. It smelled industrial and new. That new ship smell. Alora hated it. "Libraries," they murmured to themselves, "Should not smell new." They made another circuit of the Library, carefully marking off the crates on actual paper, supported by a corkboard clipboard. Lovingly hand-crafted, never replicated. They had just knelt down to examine the first of the crates that held their printing presses when someone near the doorway cleared their throat.

The Tellarite glared up at the intruder. "What do you want?" they demanded.

A young Bajoran woman shifted her weight awkwardly, shifting a young Vulcan girl from one hip to the other. A Bolian and a Saurian, both young children, chased each other around her legs. "I am sorry," the Bajoran said, casting her eyes down, her free hand reaching up and playing with her earring. "I was just taking a walk with the children. I was told that this was a library. you're not open yet. I'm sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed. I'm a babysitter, and it's been a long day, and--"

The Tellarite got to their feet, slowly, glaring up at the Bajoran. "So you thought that you'd come here, and foist them off on me?" they snarled. The Bajoran blushed, and looked away. "That this would be an appropriate place for kids to stay, play, and learn d'ren?"

The Bajoran blushed even harder, now, and turned away. "You are right," She said quietly. "Come on, children. We can come back when--"

"Hold your Skir," Alora snarled, taking several long steps forward, and placing themselves firmly in the Library's entrance, hands on their hips, chin jutting out in front of them, defiantly fixing the Bajoran with a stubborn look. "I never said they were unwelcome," they looked down at the pair of children, who werer now looking up at them from behind the Bajoran's legs. "I will never let it be said that I turned children away." They gently took the Bajoran's arm and steered them back into the Library, and settled them down on an unopened crate. "Computer, activate Emergency Librarian Hologram!" they snarled. 

A huge, hulking form loomed in the birght, clinical light of the Library. The reptilian form slowly unfurled themselves, limbs like tree-trunks, eyes the size of dinner plates, and teeth the size of a forearm. "You!" the Librarian snarled. "You're taking care of the baby."

"Baby?" The massive Gorn hologram asked, curiously, extending a finger, tipped with a four-inch claw, and gently patted the side of the infant's face. "I love children!" The Bajoran jerked the baby away, putting herself between the child and the Gorn. "I don't eat them, lady," The Gorn said in an exasperated tone. "This bastard," they gestured at the Librarian, who was pulling a crate over to one of the front corners of the Library spaces, "programmed me specifically to take care of children." The Bajoran looked up at them quizzically. "Look, call Security if you want to." The Gorn raised their hands, and flinched as they hit the ceiling. "Fr'elling Federation building standards," the Gorn growled.

"You're still here?" The Libarian demanded as they came back to see the confrontation. They opened a crate and pulled several items out, before sealing it shut again. "Go, Maria's Taquiera, a little ways down the promenade, has excellent recommendations. I've got this." They returned to the crate, and slammed down several sheets of paper, and several containers. "Drawing corner!" they announced, glaring at the children. "I've got a handful of designs ready to go, but not many."

The Bajoran looked up uncertainly at the Gorn, as it burrshed down at the Vulcan infant cradled in the curled fingers of a single hand. "Who's a cute little snack?" it cooed gently in its rumbly bass. "you're so cute, I could just eat you up!"

"Are you sure--" the Bajoran began, but Alora shushed them. 

"They're fine," the Tellarite said. "Right until he starts talking shit about philosophy."

"Gorn philosophy is the purest form of truth you can find anywhere in the galaxy!" the hologram cooed down at the baby, who was laughing and grabbing at the Gorn's claw.

"It's the purest form of SOMETHING," Alora muttered. They glanced towards the doorway, where the Bajoran stood, frozen not quite sure what was happening. "You can feel free to stay, if you want," Alora shrugged, and leaped atop one of the crates. "And now, Children," they announced dramatically, "A tale from my old Fleet:

"Once there were the Ukora, and we were One People. But it just so happened that one day, the sewage pipes aboard one of the Nursery ships broke down. Well, you have one guess as to who they sent in to fix things. You'll never guess what we found as the cause of the blockage. You see-" The Bajoran stared on in disbelief as the Tellarite continued their story, embellished with broad gestures and occasional hops from one crate to another, sometimes swinging from one of the Gorn's arms to do so. the children listened with half an ear, coloring furiously on the sheets of paper that had been provided for them.

And as they told the story from their past, the Librarian grinned. This was only the beginning.


End file.
